Dominion
by Femme Bono
Summary: With the Dark Lord's power waning, another regime rises. EWE, LM/OC


_**Note: I don't know why it is that I can never seem to finish a story without starting two or three others, but here I go again. I promise the others are not languishing in the void of unfinished fanfics. That said, now that I've been seized with the idea of this thing, I have absolutely no idea where it's going except for the pairing. There may even be a secondary pairing. Have no fear, it will be done along with the others…eventually.**_

_**And a word of warning: being that I don't quite know which path I'm ambling down, I also am branching into a VERY newfound genre for me and don't have clue what kind of warnings I need here. So tread carefully. I wouldn't call it dark per se, but it will definitely get dirty.**_

**Dominion**

Cht 1, Fallen angel

When she finally fell, by none other than Voldemort's hand, it was without any hope of survival. Juliana was fighting back to back with her father, ringed by Death Eaters who taunted and cursed by turns. She felt the elder Auberon drop behind her an instant before a new hex hit her, and she landed backwards with a soft thump over his prone form. She was bruised, bleeding and still.

Left there, Juliana wavered in and out of consciousness for several minutes. At times she heard the sounds of their home being ransacked, her body wracked with pain from curses that had met their aim. When the pain became too much to bear, she drifted off into a hazy abyss of numbness.

Once she heard someone approach and scarcely refrained from tensing. She opened her eyes a mere fraction and the vision before her nearly stole what little breath she had left. Against the pale light of the early morning sun rising behind him, stood a man's hooded form as if wearing a golden halo. The sun's rays glinted off his form and threw his face into shadow, giving him the appearance of something ethereal come down to earth. Yet still, she felt she should recognize him.

"Does she yet live?" lisped a harsh voice beyond him.

"No, my lord. She is dead," replied the angelic one.

"Very well then. We are done here, Lucius. Raise the mark. The others are dead as well."

"Yes, my lord. _Morsmordre_."

As a series of cracks rent the air a single tear slipped down the side of her temple. Her family was dead.

****

Juliana lay for at least an hour, a dismal chill blanketing her body in the brisk morning air. She thought of her sisters and mother in the house beyond, of her father lying motionless under her, not even his chest rising and falling nor his heart beating. She was truly alone, and it tore at her heart.

Worse yet, she knew it would be quite some time before anyone knew something was amiss. Today should be Sunday, and her father not due to the Ministry until the next day. She and her sisters had gone to market for her mother, so she would not be expected again for days yet. The nearest town was Muggle, and though they may wonder at the strange smoky symbol, no one would venture close enough to find out what it meant. It was entirely up to her to notify the Aurors.

Juliana shifted, trying to roll over at least to her knees, only to wince and gasp as she felt the extent of her injuries. At least two ribs were broken, and her stomach churned at the warm coppery blood she had inadvertently swallowed. She spat, then groaned softly at the shocking amount of it that landed on the patch of grass in front of her. Her vision wavered again and she knew there was no way should could get up on her own. Just as certainly, she knew that if she did not get to her feet she would die there.

The futility of her situation set in and Juliana wept silently. Each wracking sob sent spears of hurt through her injured side. At the muffled pop behind her, Juliana stiffened and reached tentatively for her wand.

"_Tsk_, _tsk_" crooned the hooded interloper, crouching down and scooping her up. "Would you really cast against an unarmed man?"

"Lucius," Juliana whispered, gazing blearily up at her captor. She tried to angle her face down to where she had dropped her only line of defense. "What do you want?"

"First, your wand," he replied, glancing down at it as well. "_Accio_," he said, deftly catching it with the hand that held her legs. "Second, I think it would be a tragic waste if you were left here to perish, do you not agree?"

And with that, he apparated them both away.

She woke moments later after fainting from the pain of apparition. Shifting gingerly, she opened her eyes in a bedroom dimly lit by the dying embers of a fire in the grate. Before it, Lucius sat in a wingback chair gazing unseeing at the hearth. Glancing around the room, Juliana saw that it was decorated in a woman's taste with deep pink tea roses and frilly touches. The walls were a light sage with walnut colored wainscoting.

She shifted as slightly as she could manage without catching Lucius' attention and tried to gauge how she was feeling. She did not feel like he had taken any liberties while she was unconscious, and even her side felt only vaguely sore. Still, however, there was the nauseating tang of blood in her mouth, which she found worrying.

Juliana glanced back up to see Lucius gazing at her every bit as intently as he had the hearth rug.

"How do you feel?" he asked at length.

"Sore," she said, stretching a bit. It was still quite unnerving to be laying abed in the home and company of what she knew was a married man--especially one who had been present at and may have even aided in the death of her family members. She watched warily as he approached her, taking a silver wine goblet from the night table. He made no move to sit on the bed, but instead summoned the chair to sit beside it.

"I took the liberty of healing your wounds--most of them--as you slept."

"Where am I?" she interjected before he could continue.

"That was Narcissa's room."

"Was?"

"She has left."

"I see," Juliana replied, even more nervous now than before. "And where is she now?"

"With her sister and brother-in-law. As it happens, what with the Dark Lord taking up residence in our home and effectively making a mockery of all that we hold dear, she rather thought I had lost my touch."

"Erm." Juliana had no idea what to say to this. Seeing her hesitation, he continued.

"Now as to your own predicament," he gestured vaguely with the goblet. "My soon to be ex-sister-in-law hit you with quite a nasty hemorrhage hex. That blood you keep tasting, which is surely making you ill, would continue until you bleed out entirely."

A sob escaped her lips at this. As her father worked in the department for Magical Law Enforcement, Juliana had heard of this hex. It was extremely dark magic and the next thing to an unforgivable. And there was no known anti-curse. She suddenly realized that there were worse things than what Malfoy might have planned for her. Surely she was dying anyway, and none of the rest mattered anymore in light of that.

"I'm sure you are aware there is no cure for this… save one." He gestured again with the cup.

Knowing how close he was with Severus Snape, a revered potions master, Juliana thought surely he had some form of salvation in this wine glass. She began to reach for it, when he held the goblet back from her. She looked sharply at him.

"Before you drink, I must urge you to ask yourself if there is anything you will not do to live."

Perplexed, and not a little uneasy, Juliana wondered briefly if there was some ominous reason that perhaps she should decline. Then she thought of her father lying dead underneath her, of her sisters and mother dying at the hands of the Death Eaters, of the jeering and taunts of the masked wizards and witches as they had fought against them. And her mind was made up. If there was anything she could do to take revenge for her family, she would live to do it. She hazarded a glance at Lucius and saw the same determination mirrored in his eyes and realized he felt the same. Again, she reached for the silver cup, and this time he placed it into her grasp.

Taking a deep breath, she met his gaze again as she tipped the rim to her lips and took a large gulp. And nearly choked. What she had mistaken for potion laced wine was heady and thick. Blood.


End file.
